Why do you think GOB is bisexual? Look back at his interactions with women: he's disinterested in them and quick to shoot down their offers of sex (or avoids sex altogether, like with his seal trainer wife), and seems like he's only with them out of some misguided feeling he should be, or to provoke a reaction from his family. He's repressed. S4 was very obviously about him coming to terms with being gay. I'm surprised you're getting a bi reading from it? He's never convincingly been into women

i think the issues we’ve seen gob have with women stem more from his developmental issues than from him having a lack of interest in them.

homeboy has textbook Commitment Issues™ which isn’t surprising given his upbringing and we see this over and over again, from his sleeping around in high school and sleeping around post high school for that matter, to his relationship with marta, etc.

and bringing up his wife is funny to me, bc he looks pretty interested in sex to me here:

there are also a few instances in the show indicating he’s into threesomes. ima talk about these a bit.

**and by the way, i’m not trying to say that anyone who is into threesomes is automatically bisexual – i just think these particular scenes are good evidence for gob in particular being into both men and women.**

the first time, early on in the show, there was this scene:

gob: heard you’re selling the yacht.michael: yeah, i had a couple in there this morning.gob: yeah, i know.[flashback]gob: well, they got the “asian” right. “hotties” might be a stretch. …well, let’s start with the little one.

(sorry i don’t have gifs of it) but yeah. there’s that. looks like lil gobie ~ordered a couple to have sex with. and it doesn’t seem like he specified genders. or at least doesn’t care. go him tbh

then, in another scene, he briefly mentions a threesome he had in the past with a female and a male.

and then there was a scene in season 3, where we see he was trying to have a threesome with ann and some other chick:

gob: my religious girlfriend just dumped me, and for a simple little misunderstanding. i mean, if someone was always asking you to embrace the Holy Trinity, what would you think they meant?

narrator: gob thought it meant a three-way.

this girl is shown slapping him:

and we later see that ann is the other girl in this scene.

~~bi vibes~~

moving on, i do agree with you that *some* of his relationships with women were to provoke a reaction from his family (mainly his relationship with lucille 2), but i think it’s also pretty obvious that he’s interested in women sexually as well. he just has major issues committing to relationships and expressing feelings. and that goes for both men and women.

a huge part of season 4 is gob coming to terms with his feelings for tony, which is awesome. we finally see gob able to (at least a little bit) open up and talk about his feelings. but i don’t think this completely erases his past interest in women. bi erasure is a thing k. i just think it shows that he is slowly getting better at expressing his feelings along with him coming to the realization that he wants to be more than friends with tony.

gob is just a very love-deprived individual and i just really hope we get to see much more of him and tony bc this poor child is finally getting some love and growing up and HE DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD

at the end of the day you’re obviously free to have your own opinion but gob is my bisexual son and no one can convince me otherwise ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I`m seeing people saying that they are worried that RB may not be at CS wedding, that if they are not, means they are still against esch other and i`m like, NOPE, why would Rumple go to the Hook`s wedding ? a wedding with the woman his son was in love, that is totally in character, i would be worried if they destroyed Rumple and Belle even more and made them go to the wedding, like everything is ok, which at this point with them trying to erase Bae/Neal would almost be expecting them to do.

I do not want Rumbelle anywhere near that shitfest musical episode (and mark my words, it WILL be a shitfest) or the disease ridden CS wedding where Emma sings a shitty song and puts one of Hook’s murder rings on her finger to officially seal her Stepford Wife status.

The only thing I want to see of Rumbelle during that vomit-inducing wedding is a montage of Rumbelle fucking each other’s brains out all over town while Pepe and his girlfriend exchange vows and spittle.

Konoha logic: oh shit our Hokage the most powerful shinobi and our protector died a hero and so did his wife, he sealed a demon threatening us into his son, the self sacrifice and bravery that must have taken, it has to be a secret tho and also…. let’s treat his orphan child like a piece of shit

ABC’s of Shapeshifter Lore

S is for Selkie: Selkies (also spelled silkies, selchies; Irish/Scottish Gaelic: selchidh, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Scottish, Irish, and Faroese folklore. Similar creatures are described in the Icelandic traditions. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend is apparently most common in Orkney and Shetland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.

Male selkies are described as being very handsome in their human form, and having great seductive powers over human women. They typically seek those who are dissatisfied with their life, such as married women waiting for their fishermen husbands. If a woman wishes to make contact with a selkie male, she must shed seven tears into the sea. If a man steals a female selkie’s skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife. Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean. If she finds her skin she will immediately return to her true home, and sometimes to her selkie husband, in the sea. Sometimes, a selkie maiden is taken as a wife by a human man and she has several children by him. In these stories, it is one of her children who discovers her sealskin (often unwitting of its significance) and she soon returns to the sea. The selkie woman usually avoids seeing her human husband again but is sometimes shown visiting her children and playing with them in the waves.

Hi. My name
is David. You probably already know that. This is my story. And like all
stories, it’s subjective; meaning I chose what to include based on my own
feelings and opinions.

I’ve had a lot
of nicknames: D Diddy, Master D, Double D, D Dog, and Chuck (short for
Chuckles). Isn’t it weird that Dave was never my nickname?

I guess I should start at the beginning. I was born in Alberta, Canada
in November 1970. My parents wed in February of that year…you can do the math. My
dad once told me that he and my mom each brought a lot to the marriage, but
that’s what it was, two people with their own histories. He said I am the first
result of their marriage, the thing which changed them from two people into one
unit, a family. I always liked that thought.

My earliest
memory is when my mom, with tears in her eyes, told me and my sister that Jesus
is important to her, wanted us to learn about Him. I also remember her speaking
on the phone and saying that our reaction was basically “Yep, we know, we learn
about Him at church.”

I went to
kindergarten in California. I had a teacher named Ms. Berry, but I called her
Ms. Strawberry. One day a bunch of dads came and taught us skills. I was so
excited my dad was there and showed us how to hammer nails.

I still feel
comfort and love when I remember laying in the top bunk at night as my dad
vacuumed the bedroom, and how he’d look over at me and smile.

At the age
of 8, I was baptized by my dad in Alabama. My family moved a lot. I
don’t really know why.

Thinking
back on Halloweens, the one candy I always dreaded getting was those peanut
butter-flavored sticky candies that come wrapped in orange or black wax paper.
Who even likes those? If someone out there does, you gotta be the KING of Halloween
candy trading.“Hey, you
like these? Here, I’ll trade you them for that mini Snickers and a Blow Pop.”“Okay, fine,
I’ll take just the two Hershey kisses. At least I got SOMETHING for them.”

I began
Junior High in Texas. It was horrible. I knew I liked boys in a way other boys
didn’t. I tried to hide that from everyone, even from me. Eighth grade was the
worst. I wanted to die. Some of the guys in my gym class caught me sneaking
glances at a dude in the shower. That got around the school and I was shamed
and harassed.

One person
was especially hard on me, not just about that, but about everything. I faced
him in a wrestling match and was determined to get him back. I dominated,
all I needed was for him to bend his elbow and he’d be pinned. I pressed down hard and…Snap! That crack of his bone was
loud. He immediately went limp in my arms. I felt sick to my stomach. I really
hurt him. I also felt joyful vengeance. I’d been good at
wrestling, but I stopped. I didn’t like the monster I saw I could become.

So school
sucked. And scouting, I hated it, and we did that every Wednesday at church.
Like the school day wasn’t already bad enough and then scouts on top of it.

Oh, there
was one really cool thing that happened related to scouts. In church we had a
lesson that the quorum president is the leader, the adults were there to guide but the power rested with us. The quorum president said, “In that case,
we’re done with scouting.” He asked if the rest of us sustained. We voted to
end scouting! Unfortunately my
dad and a few others didn’t take that well and I was forced to go to a
different scout program in the stake.

One of the bright
spots of my Junior High & High School years were piano lessons. I excelled
with a teacher who was quick to praise, which helped boost my very bruised
self-image. Developing your gifts and talents isn’t selfish, it’s actually a
great gift to other people.

Another
bright spot were my friends. If you’re hearing this and you are a teenager,
reach out to the youth around you. No matter how nice the leaders are, they
can’t make up for feeling left out by other teens. Trust me.

At some
point I realized a lot of our culture honors those who stand up against the
norms, admires those who live life on their own terms. I made a list of 5
actions, actually non-actions, I would take to make me different.1) Not go to
Prom2) Not go to
Homecoming 3) Not get a
driver’s license 4) Not go to
graduation 5) No open
house when I leave for a mission.

I didn’t
tell anyone about this list and my poor dad, he would get excited for these
things, like Prom, and get me a tuxedo only to be bewildered I wasn’t going.

I kept 4 of
those 5 stupid, pointless goals. My parents did make me get a driver’s license so
they could stop carrying me to 6am seminary class. I didn’t realize until too
late, the point of being different is to replace frivolous things with
something deeper, better, more meaningful.

I loved art
class even though my grades were so-so. One day my art teacher asked me to
explain the print I made, what was my thinking behind the design. After
listening, she said the skills of how to use the different tools and materials can be learned and that my classmates are all better at using them. But I have something they don’t have, something that can’t be taught. Art
comes from the head and heart, it requires creativity and a different way of
viewing things, of having something to say, a story to share.

What I heard
was my classmates were all better, I was the worst. Later I understood what she
meant. She’d actually given me the greatest compliment of my life. I have
something worth sharing, I just need to learn how.

After years
of crying for God to fix me, to make me normal, I eventually accepted that a homo
is what I am. I didn’t choose it, in fact had fought it. I guarded this
knowledge, it was dangerous. But owning this is part of me gave me power even
as it complicated church and my life. Church is where my friends were and it was
okay except when terrible things were taught about people like me.

Why do we
let harmful words go unchallenged? Hearing bigoted, intolerant words really feels
isolating. I know it’s hard to stand out and be different, to rock the boat. But
doing nothing, being silent—to the person feeling attacked, it’s not viewed as
neutral. Choosing not to speak up is taking sides. Speak the truth, even if
your voice shakes.

Immediately
after high school, I got arrested, actually spent time in jail. Shocking,
right? I shoplifted a shirt. That’s sort of a harsh punishment, don’t you
think? Fortunately a plea deal was made and I avoided a criminal record. I’ve paid this forward, twice I’ve agreed for charges against a young
adult to be dropped so they could have a second chance at a clean record.

When my
bishop called me in to talk about preparing for a mission, I went home and
prayed hard. I asked if God loves me, loves me for who I am, all that I am.
Warmth radiated across my body. I knew with certainty that I’m loved and I am
not broken.

Serving a
mission in Korea is one of the great adventures of my life. I learned so much
about myself. I rose to the challenge. I worked hard and made some life-long
friends. Weekly service at orphanages really buoyed me, I loved playing with
those kids.

While I was
in Korea, at a branch conference, the members voted to not sustain their branch
presidency. In other words, they voted out their branch leaders! I didn’t even
know that was possible. I mean, yes, we get to vote, but it’s always more of a
formality. I hadn’t realized we have power. The name of our church indicates
this is the case. It’s the church of Jesus Christ AND it’s the church of the
latter-day Saints.

In brief,
here is the top highlight of my mission. I met a man at a bus stop. I
was going to give him a Book of Mormon, but a voice in my ear very clearly whispered not to. Twice that happened. The third time I was reaching to get a book out
of my bag to give to him despite that voice. My arm froze and the voice said if I gave him the book, the consequences would be on my head. Message
received loud and clear, no book given away that night.

He eventually got baptized, and I was still in Korea a year later when he got
married. Receiving the phone call from him that he was being sealed to a wife
in the temple was the happiest day of my mission.

Hearing that
voice in my ear would happen again and again over the years. Not very often,
but always significant. I’ll include a few more examples.

Next I was
off to college, which I loved! In January 1993 I arrived in Idaho to attend
Ricks College (now it’s called BYU-Idaho). I’ve never been so cold my entire
life. If I walked outside with wet hair, it’d freeze!

My first
roommate was soooo handsome. The girls called him “Ken” because he reminded
them of Barbie’s boyfriend. We became great friends.
I had a crush on him. At the end of the semester he told me he’s bi and
our relationship changed. I was willing to leave behind church and family to be
with him. He decided his life would be easier if he pursued a relationship with
a woman and so left me behind in Idaho.

After “Ken,”
my next roommate was Futoshi from Japan. He became my best friend. Many years
later I attended his wedding in Japan. In fact, our tradition is to send each other a
package of Halloween treats (and no, I’ve never sent him those terrible
black-and-orange wrapped candies).

I was
walking down the sidewalk at Ricks College and a voice in my ear whispered I should
call Memo from Mexico to be my 1st counselor in the elders quorum
presidency. “Yes,” I thought to myself, “he’s an excellent choice.” Wait.
What?!! MY counselor? That night I got a phone call, I was the new Elders Quorum president.
Half the ward was in my quorum (the other half were women). I visited with each
person in the quorum every month. I liked them. I knew them all.

Ah, Rexburg,
home of BYU-Idaho. Does anyone know if they ever renamed Beaver Dick Park? So
many unfortunate (or fortunate, if you know what I mean) double
entendres.

After Ricks,
on I went to BYU in Utah. Futoshi came, too. I wanted to date and kiss and all
the things my friends did, except with men, and that was explicitly banned by
the Honor Code, even things like holding someone’s hand was out of bounds. I
feared the Honor Code Office, they sometimes ran undercover stings trying to catch gay
students.

While in Provo, I had a faith crisis.
Being in the
heart of Mormondom, I had access to information that showed a different sort of
story than I’d been taught in Sunday School, like the way Joseph Smith
translated the gold plates. What to do
with this messy history? How do I fit into the Plan of Salvation? Retaining faith, in many ways,
is a choice to accept the complexity, to give up black & white for nuance. As for me, I hold on to the times I’ve
seen God’s love, mercy, and justness come through the lives of flawed
individuals who learn to measure up and do profound things.

While a
student at BYU, I got a job at the Missionary Training Center (MTC) teaching
Korean to missionaries. I loved it. That place is a spiritual powerhouse and I
was able to plug in every day.

And I was
there when my brother came to the MTC as a new missionary. I was able to eat
lunch with him every week. And what’s funny is the missionaries I was teaching knew
he was my brother and every morning would give me a report on what they’d seen
him doing. So at Friday lunch I was always able to say things like:“Elder, I
hear you were throwing snowballs.”He’d always
respond “How can you possibly know that?”“The Lord
sees all, Elder.”

Working at the MTC meant, like the two years of my mission, I was back to
wearing a white shirt nearly every day. When I stopped working there, I threw
away all my white shirts and never looked back.

Wearing
colorful shirts in this church is unusual for men. It was a way to mark myself
as different; a way to show my experience and journey is not the same as those
around me. When someone at the podium looks out and sees a purple shirt, I want
them to think, “Oh, there’s David.” Yes, see me, notice me! I matter, I belong.
Please see I’m doing my best and even if I am different, I am here.

I have 6
brothers and sisters. They married and had babies. Those nieces and nephews are
the greatest blessings in my life. I thought I’d be a good dad, but I am gay
and marriage equality didn’t come until too late. So I was the best uncle,
involved in their lives, making sure they know they’re loved.

One thing I
like about kids is they ask really personal and fundamental questions. “What’s
your favorite color?” Mine is yellow. Isn’t it a lovely color, so warm and
inviting. All the different shades from cream and pastel to golden or bright
sunshine, yellow is beautiful.

Learning to
play the piano, speak a language, ride a skateboard, drive a stick-shift car, ride a bike, hit a ball
or most any other skill will require mistakes, thousands of them, maybe even
hundreds of thousands. It can be embarrassing. Give yourself credit for trying.
Attempting something that is challenging is what you should take pride in, not
ashamed that I didn’t do it perfectly the first time, or every time.

I don’t know
why I’ve stayed in church all these years. That’s not true. But it is
complicated and this doesn’t seem to be the time to get into it, I’m trying to
tell my story. The anti-gay restrictions are strict
and do a number on a person’s mental health. I wish my church and my
orientation were more compatible. I don’t think God finds them incompatible. In
fact, He loves me in a way my church is only just learning to do.

I’ve spent
more of my adult years in Primary (what we call junior Sunday School) than anywhere else. They even got me to serve as an assistant scout
master over the 11-year-old patrol. I couldn’t believe of all the things, it
had to be scouts.

I was
determined that it was going to be fun for those scouts even as we were being productive, not how I experienced
it. Those scouts were a joy to be with.

One of them
often said things like, “Knives? They NEVER let us play with knives in cub
scouts.” “Hey, if I see you playing with it, game over. These are tools, not
toys.”

At the end
of the day, I’m my longest commitment, it’s only proper that I make myself a
priority. I went back to school and earned a Master’s degree from the
University of Florida (Go Gators!). That was hard work.

That degree
helped me land a job at a university. I love working in an environment that is
open and accepting. I also really appreciate knowing my efforts are going
towards the university’s mission of gathering, applying and disseminating
knowledge. And it’s fun to work somewhere with a fight song and a mascot, I
recommend it.

When my grandma
died, I played a piano piece at the funeral. Afterwards a lady came up and
thanked me for all the years I spent practicing, sitting there alone at a piano
when I could’ve been doing something more fun.

What an
unusual compliment, she put thought into it, and I appreciated the
recognition that playing on that day didn’t just happen. That’s how life is,
you’re preparing now for things you don’t even know are on your horizon. Try to
be the best you can be.

My favorite
hero of fiction is TRUTH. I just think a great novel contains life’s important
lessons and meaning wrapped in entertaining adventures and mysteries. Harry Potter
& Huckleberry Finn not only transport us to another place, but leave us with
deeper understandings.

I love Harry
Potter. Those books and movies teach so many important life lessons, some in a
straightforward way and others you have to think about. Here’s a for instance, we
learn that the thing Neville fears most is Professor Snape. This kid went to
class for years with that professor. No wonder the Sorting Hat put him in
Gryffindor; he was one of the bravest characters. Aren’t we all brave in this
way, at least sometimes?

I was asked
to be a counselor in the stake young men presidency. I turned them down. It
took two hours of convincing before I agreed to give it a try. I said they had
the wrong guy and in six months when they recognized it, they could release me,
no hard feelings. I couldn’t imagine that I’d have anything to offer.

Turns out it was the right calling for me. I feel like I blossomed. I was
no longer just existing, merely surviving in this church, but was making a mark.

At one
point, a voice whispered in my ear that I was going to be stake young men
president and I am an unusual choice and would only serve a short time. I knew by “unusual” that meant because I’m
gay. I started thinking of how I’d do things differently if I were in charge.

Six months
later I became president and I had a plan and hit the ground running.

One way I
was a different kind of Stake Young Men President is I applied my experience from
when I was an Elders Quorum President all those years ago, of how I used to talk
with everyone each month. As stake young men president, I visited
every ward at least monthly, usually twice a month. This meant every month I
had contact with nearly every young man in the stake, and many of the young
women, too. It was a pleasure to work with the ward young men presidents,
bishops put top-shelf people in those positions. I really liked getting to know
the youth. I tried to be protective of teens who struggle. I want them to know
they are seen, they are loved, and there is hope.

Turns out a
short time was exactly one year. I was very sad to be released, my church life
had found meaning.

When my
stake president told me “with every calling comes a release,” I blurted out,
“But I just bought a Chewbacca shirt for the Star Wars dance!” “Well, wear it
on casual Friday,” was his response.

I was asked
to be the secretary to the stake president. It’s a lot of work, definitely not
a favorite calling; I’d rather be back in Primary. He said many people could make appointments, but he wanted me to be stake executive secretary so my viewpoint is
present in all the top councils of the stake.

I attend
stake presidency meeting and some of those meetings go on and on.“Dear Lord,
as we begin this meeting, please help us not to be bored. And for them to keep
their stories to a minimum so we can get out of here at a decent hour.”I’ve thought
about praying for those things, although never was brave enough to actually do
it.

One night it
was late, and the stake president asked who can say a short prayer. My hand
shot up so fast!

Early one
chilly Florida morning, I was grumbling about how cold the steering wheel was
as I’m in the McDonald’s drive-thru lane. I saw a man walk out the side door,
past my car, to the homeless man sitting directly ahead of me. The homeless guy
had no blanket or hat, just a sweatshirt for warmth. His reaction at receiving
a cup of hot coffee and a warm sandwich really touched me. I was ashamed. Why
wasn’t I more like that guy? I talk a good game, but true religion requires
action. The world needs more Christ-like love like that.

Sometimes I wonder if the things I hear at church align with the God I know. Does it
fit with the two great commandments to love God and to love one another? I try to focus on the love, that is God’s
primary attribute and the one I try to emulate. If your heart ever tells you that something doesn’t feel right, don’t ignore it.

Over
the years, if I’d read a story or seen a video about someone who is gay & LDS (or even formerly LDS), I sometimes tried contacting them. I never got a response.

I have a blog where I write about being gay & Mormon. I wrote about an
experience I had when I got to meet a church
leader, Elder Joaquin Costa of the Seventy. The whispering voice prompted me to tell him I’m gay and he showed me a great
deal of love. That blog post went viral. If you want to see it, do a search for
“Nerdy Gay Mormon”.

Because of
my viral blog post, I was contacted by many people, hundreds of them. And I responded. It’s been incredibly rewarding. For the first time I had actual
friends who are LGBTQ+ and LDS.

I think if
the teenage me who contemplated suicide could see how my life developed, he’d be
surprised at how much better the future turned out. A job I like, the
favorite uncle of 14, I am well liked across my stake and make a positive
contribution. I’ve lived through a difficult but special time to be gay in the
Church as it’s been transforming.

Wanna hear
something funny, one time at church my little nephew said, “I’m hungry. How
much longer to the snackrament?”

Life doesn’t
wait until we’re perfectly prepared and feel totally up for what’s ahead of us.
In fact, life is messy. It’s not been an easy path, but it’s been MY path. Being gay in a time of unacceptance helped me gain empathy for others. I’ve tried to be a good and kind person.

Living
within the restrictions placed on me by my church; it’s been difficult. I’ve
tried to make a mark on the world. My one great regret in life is not having
children. Even so, Primary teachers and scout leaders are important to
children. I may not be the main gardener in anyone else’s life, but I nurture
and water others. There’d be some pretty meager gardens without people like me.

If you’re
hearing this and are queer, I have a message for you. Being gay or trans or
whatever is not a sin, it is not the result of a lack of faith, it is not a
punishment. God created you and me as glorious, eternal beings. I am a son of
God. I am gay. I am known and loved by Him. He is rooting for me.

If the
choice comes down to suicide or your church, choose to live. Protect your
mental health by taking a break from religion. God created you. You determine if this will be
a blessing or a curse in your life. Enjoy it.

And to everyone,
be kinder and gentler. Leave the enforcing of church boundaries, of judging, up
to the bishop. Don’t tell a kid that he shouldn’t be wearing that or commenting that “someone” smells of cigarettes. If this is God’s church, then there should be room for all His
children, all should feel welcome. Mormons have a way of obsessing over details
that don’t matter. I wish we spent more time obsessing on how to love.

That’s it!
It feels like this story needs an ending, a concluding sentence, something
snappy. I hope I have time to think of a good one.

[“Can you tell me about Mito-sama?” she asks. “Not—not the Shodaime’s wife, I mean. Her.”

Kurama meets her gaze, and for the first time since Mito died, there’s a spark returned to his eyes. “She was never just the Shodaime’s wife,” he says, a quiet growl rumbling up through the words, and sprawls out on the ground. Before Kushina can needle him for more information, he’s already talking, and she curls her fingers in the hem of her nightgown, hiding the seals as she listens.

(I could have sealed the Kyuubi within myself. I could have stolen his physical form and trapped him in my soul, and made him into nothing but an angry ghost. Kushina, dearest, do you understand why I didn’t?)] - Excerpts from @blackkatmagic‘s fic, Heretic.

Here’s Uzumaki Mito and her seal, from @blackkatmagic‘s fic, Heretic. :) And this is what happens when I turn a normal sketch into something a bit more serious xD. So have a portrait of Mito. :)

The legend of Kópakonan (the Seal Woman) is one of the best-known folktales in the Faroe Islands.

Seals were believed to be former human beings who voluntarily sought death in the ocean. Once a year, on the Thirteenth night, they were allowed to come on land, strip off their skins and amuse themselves as human beings, dancing and enjoying themselves.

A young farmer from the village of Mikladalur on the northern island of Kalsoy, wondering if this story was true, went and lay in wait on the beach one Thirteenth evening. He watched and saw the seals arriving in large numbers, swimming towards the shore. They clambered on to the beach, shed their skins and laid them carefully on the rocks. Divested of their skins, they looked just like normal people. The young lad stared at a pretty seal girl placing her skin close to the spot where he was hiding, and when the dance began, he sneaked up and stole it. The dancing and games went on all night, but as soon as the sun started to peep above the horizon, all the seals came to reclaim their skins to return to the sea. The seal girl was very upset when she couldn’t find her skin, though its smell still lingered in the air, and then the man from Mikladalur appeared holding it, but he wouldn’t give it back to her, despite her desperate entreaties, so she was obliged to accompany him to his farm.

He kept her with him for many years as his wife, and she bore him several children; but he always had to make sure that she didn’t have access to her skin. He kept it locked up in a chest to which he alone had the key, a key which he kept at all times on a chain attached to his belt.

One day, while he was out at sea fishing with his companions, he realised he had left the key at home. He announced to his companions, ‘Today I shall lose my wife!’ – and he explained what had happened. The men pulled in their nets and lines and rowed back to the shore as fast as they could, but when they arrived at the farm, they found the children all alone and their mother gone. Their father knew she wasn’t going to come back, as she had put out the fire and put away all the knives, so that the young ones couldn’t do themselves any harm after she’d left.

Indeed, once she had reached the shore, she had put on her sealskin and plunged into the water, where a bull seal, who had loved her all those years before and was still waiting for her, popped up beside her. When her children, the ones she had had with the Mikladalur man, later came down to the beach, a seal would emerge and look towards the land; people naturally believed that it was the children’s mother. And so the years passed.

Then one day it happened that the Mikladalur men planned to go deep into one of the caverns along the far coast to hunt the seals that lived there. The night before they were due to go, the man’s seal wife appeared to him in a dream and said that if he went on the seal hunt in the cavern, he should make sure he didn’t kill the great bull seal that would be lying at the entrance, for that was her husband. Nor should he harm the two seal pups deep inside the cave, for they were her two young sons, and she described their skins so he would know them. But the farmer didn’t heed the dream message. He joined the others on the hunt, and they killed all the seals they could lay their hands on. When they got back home, the catch was divided up, and for his share the farmer received the large bull seal and both the front and the hind flippers of the two young pups.

In the evening, when the head of the large seal and the limbs of the small ones had been cooked for dinner, there was a great crash in the smoke-room, and the seal woman appeared in the form of a terrifying troll; she sniffed at the food in the troughs and cried the curse: ‘Here lie the head of my husband with his broad nostrils, the hand of Hárek and the foot of Fredrik! Now there shall be revenge, revenge on the men of Mikladalur, and some will die at sea and others fall from the mountain tops, until there be as many dead as can link hands all round the shores of the isle of Kalsoy!’

When she had pronounced these words, she vanished with a great crash of thunder and was never seen again. But still today, alas, it so happens from time to time that men from the village of Mikladalur get drowned at sea or fall from the tops of cliffs; it must therefore be feared that the number of victims is not yet great enough for all the dead to link hands around the whole perimeter of the isle of Kalsoy.

Here’s how I want Sarah Wright on NCISLA: some sort of BBQ thing backyard at Sam’s house and he invites his SEAL buddy who uses a cane, played by David Olsen. SEAL buddy brings his wife, played by Sarah. There’s a super brief but hilarious interaction when Kensi and Deeks come up. Just a fun cameo like when the moms were on. Team super other in-laws!